


Yuuup.

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 21:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A planet in the Mrennenimus system inappropriately rains on Bones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yuuup.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Entry for MFWW’s first prompt challenge [on tumblr.](http://multifandomww.tumblr.com/post/71732708297/mfww-prompt-challenge-1) Prompt was “penises fall from the sky.”
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

_“Beam me up right now!”_

“Bones,” Jim yells through the communicator, because Bones is yelling at him, and the windstorm is loud on the other side. This is the first time Bones has ever volunteered to go through the transporter, and the gravity of that isn’t lost on Jim. But he needs Bones to hold on. “Bones, listen, I know the circumstances are unusual, but the Mrennenimus king needs your medical expertise—”

_“Damnit, Jim, there are penises falling from the sky! You beam me up right the fuck now, you hear me?!”_

Jim hears him just fine, and everyone in the corridor passing by hears too. Jim’s pace quickens, his feet already on the way to the transporter room, because he knows his friend isn’t going to last forever and he has someone else to meet. “Look, if you can just keep helping him long enough for us to figure out what to do—”

 _“What to do?! I know what to do! I just tried to inject him and got my hand knocked away by a goddamn penis!”_ Trust Bones to go apeshit over one stray cock. The doors of the transporter room automatically part, and Jim storms right in. 

Spock is waiting for him there, already leaving the platform. Bones is still screaming at him, but Jim snaps the communicator shut. “Your analysis, Mr. Spock?” At least Spock will give him a more... objective... description of the planet’s ill prognosis. 

“Intense weather storm, Captain,” Spock informs him simply. Spock’s arms fold behind his back in his usual cold posture, and if he’s recently been whacked with a flying dick, he doesn’t show it. “As the inhabitants of the Southern continent do not seem to believe in roofs or doors, they are quite susceptible to being swept right off their feet and blown about. As the males weigh considerably less than the females of their species, and they also seem adverse to the idea of clothing, Dr. McCoy’s rather colourful description of events is not entirely baseless.”

Jim’s communicator beeps again, and he finally sighs, glancing over to tell Scotty, “Beam him up.”

Scotty’s very clearly trying to stifle a laugh, and he says, “Aye, Sir.” His fingers move across the panel, and Spock steps back to watch a furious-looking Bones appear before them, carrying a medkit in one hand and a medical tricorder in the other.

He steps immediately off the platform and grumbles at Jim, “Your little delay there caused me to get smacked in the face again—I hope you’re happy!” Behind them, Scotty snorts, and Jim barely manages to suppress his own chuckle. He’s immensely happy. 

He’s also vaguely tempted to beam down himself. Even though the mission doesn’t at all require his presence, he’s never actually seen it rain men before, and the idea’s... more tempting than it should be. 

Dropping his equipment on the floor, Bones sets to using his hands to emphasize his loud words. “We have to send weighted boots like ours and what we put on the king down to all of them—this is completely ridiculous! I can’t work in these conditions! I’m a doctor, not uh... uh... damnit, why don’t these people wear any clothes?!”

Lifting an eyebrow, Spock informs him smoothly, “As most articles of clothing serve no more than an aesthetic purpose, it is a wonder so many species use them as is.” Jim’s head instantly snaps sideways to look at him, wondering if that means Spock finds clothes... illogical. 

Bones just glares coldly at him and turns back to Jim, insisting, “Look, STDs are one of the most easily spread diseases in space. I can’t do my job if I’m being knocked into alien genitals every five seconds. Now, I’m aware that man needs my help, but I am not going back down there unless I get some sort of... of...”

“Protection?” Spock suggests. Bones gestures at him, clearly agreeing. Jim agrees. 

He looks at Scotty for help, but Scotty’s still just trying not to laugh. The weighted boots idea is, of course, ridiculous. They can hardly administer boots to an entire already-airborne population. It’d be better to just fix the storm, but if there were an easy way to temper the weather, Spock would’ve suggested it before they sent Bones down. Jim scratches his chin absently. 

After a moment of mutually frustrated silence, Spock says, “A condom.”

Everyone in the room looks at him at once, to which he has no reaction. He stands just as tall as ever, and he repeats, “A condom. I believe that was the old Earth way to protect oneself from unwanted penile contact?”

Jim would die laughing if he weren’t too busy being shocked. Bones’ glare only increases. “And where do you suggest I get a human-sized condom, hobgoblin?” Jim highly doubts they have the pattern for that in any Synthesizer chips. 

Raising his eyebrows in that fashion that means he’s quite exasperated with all their emotional nonsense, Spock explains simply, “I was speaking in a purely theoretical sense, doctor. Given your pension for metaphors, I assumed you would understand. In this case, a simple space suit should suffice. While it may not be the ideal solution, it should protect you from being barraged by genitalia.” Bones shuts his mouth, which seemed to be hanging open in preparation to shout again. 

Instead, he blinks, then looks sideways at Jim. Jim looks back at Spock, stunned, and admits, “That’s a good idea.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“I won’t ask where your knowledge of condoms came from.” Even though he desperately wants to. He expects a perfectly innocent explanation anyway. 

Spock just repeats, “Thank you, Captain.”

Turning around and spotting a redshit in the corner, typing away at the transporter console, Jim barks, “Ensign, get us three space suits.”

The woman immediately stands up, says, “Yes, Sir!” and heads off to do his bidding.

When Jim turns back around, both of them are looking at him. Bones asks dryly, “Three?”

Clapping his friend on the shoulder, then realizing belatedly that that shoulder might be infected and quickly withdrawing his arm, Jim says, “Can’t let you suffer alone.”

Bones rolls his eyes and grumbles, “Only you would _want_ to walk into a dick storm.”

“Actually,” Spock interjects, “I believe I am also quite... curious. This is, after all, a unique phenomenon.”

“And you have purely scientific interests,” Bones says wryly.

Spock replies, “Naturally.”

Jim doesn’t, and he turns to tell Scotty with a barely stifled smile, “Find as clear a place in the palace as possible to send us, Commander. I don’t want to be spliced into a naked native.”

Scotty says, “Yes, Captain,” but bursts into hysterics before he actually gets to make the coordinates. 

Jim lets him laugh. 

Then joins in.


End file.
